


Zombie's Bite

by Rayvee



Series: To Be Inhuman [1]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst, Attempted Cannibalism, Cleo becomes a zombie for the first time, Cleo doesn't take it well, Gen, I don't even use players who aren't active currently so..., Is what I'm saying, Sort Of, Sort of? - Freeform, Tag wranglers stop marking Hermitcraft as RPF challenge, There's a bit of False, There's a word for this but I Do Not Know What It Is., Zombie instincts are a Problem, deppression?, look - Freeform, zombiefication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28978203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayvee/pseuds/Rayvee
Summary: When Cleo found herself in the middle of a mob farm, a baby zombie biting into her side, she was ready to die. She was prepared to respawn, to go through the frustrating process of retreiving her gear.She died. Shedied.So why hasn''t she gotten the memo?
Relationships: Joe Hills & ZombieCleo, No Romantic Relationship(s), ZombieCleo & Xisumavoid, ZombieCleo & iJevin
Series: To Be Inhuman [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157696
Comments: 9
Kudos: 51





	Zombie's Bite

She was dying. She was sure of that.  
So why did dying have to  _ hurt  _ so much?

When Cleo had fallen into the mob farm, she was fully prepared to die. She’d been swarmed immediately- pounced on by spiders, shot by skeletons, attacked by zombies. She’d expected that- it was her own fault for poking around it in the first place.  
It had been painful, of course. She remembered arrows jutting out of her arms, her legs torn by mandibles, her body covered in scratches. She remembered a baby zombie, clinging to her back, claws digging through her shirt and into her skin.  
She remembered a sudden, piercing _stab_ in her side, looking down to see the baby zombie digging its teeth into her flesh, and collapsing, her body racked with pain.  
She faintly remembered floating down water streams, she remembered falling, she remembered shouts of shock and fear.  
She remembered pain.

_ There’s no...beat, e’s...ot brea...ing...  
_ She heard voices. She couldn’t see, couldn’t speak. Everything hurt. She could feel where the zombie had torn out a chunk of her flesh. She could feel a creeping cold spreading through her body from it, the kind that settled in your bones.  
She was cold. She hurt. She heard voices.  
_ Why hasn’t she respawned?  
_ _ I’m not sure. Maybe it would be better to kill her completely, but that might just make it worse.  
_ Voices. She knew those voices. Those voices meant something to her. Who’s voices were they? She couldn’t remember.  
She tried to speak, tried to move. Her eyes were closed. She tried to open them.  
She couldn’t. What had happened to her?   
She felt movement.  
_ Her foot moved!  
_ _ Cleo? Are you there, friend?  
_ She couldn’t speak. The cold was spreading through her system, weighing her down.  
She twitched her foot again, experimentally.  
_ Can she hear us? Or is she doing that in her sleep?  
_ _ Cleo, if you can hear us, twitch your foot twice.  
_ She obliged. The creeping cold hadn’t worked its way to her head yet. Maybe she could speak?  
She tried.  
She couldn’t make any noise, but she did manage to force her eyes open. She was in a room. There were two faces floating above her. One was wearing a full-face helmet, the other had brown hair. Their shapes were blurry and indistinct. She knew them. Names floated into her mind. Joe. Xisuma.  
_ Cleo?  
_ She tried to speak, but no sound came out.   
_ Do you want us to try a health potion?  
_ _ Cleo, twitch your foot once for yes, twice for no.  
_ Yes.  _ Yes.  _ any relief from the pain would be wonderful.  
She saw X move, felt a bottle press to her lips, tasted the sweet potion on her tongue. It took effort to swallow, but she felt its warmth slowly start to spread through her body.   
Then the warmth reached the cold, and everything exploded into pain. The warmth of the potion felt like fire, like it was burning her flesh, her bones, her body away. She was powerless to stop it as it spread. She heard screaming, and some part of her dimly registered it as coming from her mouth. Some small part of her brain, the only sliver left still functioning, registered it as unfair that  _ now  _ her voice was working, but the rest of her was in too much pain to care. Black spots appeared in her vision, and she welcomed the relative bliss of unconsciousness.

* * *

When she came to, she couldn’t even twitch her foot. She struggled to open her eyes, but gave up quickly when it became clear she couldn’t.   
The pain had ebbed somewhat. She still hurt, of course, but it was more a feeling of intense bruising more than the complete pain she'd felt earlier.  
Her entire body was cold now. It had spread through the rest of her body. Her limbs felt heavy, not quite right. Her bones were cold. Her flesh was cold. Her skin was cold. Everything was cold. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t move.  
She tried to speak, tried to make her muscles do her bidding. Nothing. There was nothing. She was nothing. There was only pain. There was only cold.

* * *

She was hungry. That was the first thing she noticed when she woke back up again. A gnawing feeling, deep in her stomach. She was suddenly very aware of her surroundings, despite her closed eyes. She could feel the warmth of a body beside her, hear the quiet breathing, smell the blood.  
She was hungry. She wanted to  _ eat.  
_ And all of a sudden, her body obeyed her.

She was aware of the prey yelling as she lunged, of blue eyes widening in shock and fear. She felt her claws dig into skin, smelled the blood like a perfume permeating the air.

Something slammed into the side of her head, knocking her off her prey. She heard shouting, footsteps. Something was holding her, but she struggled, growling. She was  _ hungry,  _ and she didn’t care where her food came from. It didn’t have to be the bleeding one. 

She twisted, trying to bite at the one who’d grabbed her, to sink her teeth into their flesh, to stop the unrelenting  _ hunger.  _ The bleeding one grabbed her, and the two forced her down. She kept fighting, kept trying to break three, to satiate the hunger, but she couldn’t.  
The prey was talking, but she didn’t really care. She just wanted to  _ eat. _

_ Something’s wrong. Don’t kill her, we don’t know if she’ll respawn.  
_ _ We’re going to have to restrain her.  
_ _ I don’t like this.  
_ _ Me neither. But we have to stop her from attacking anyone… maybe X will be able to do something.  
_ _ I hope so. _

She felt ropes around her wrists, a gag on her mouth. She watched as she was walled off, listened as the two started talking urgently. There was still a faint trace of blood in the air, but it was fading.  
Cleo’s brain clicked back into place. She became very suddenly aware of the small droplets of blood spattered on the wooden floor, of the unnatural shade of her skin, of the still-there, still-gnawing hunger for fresh meat.  


She sank back, sitting on the bed. She’d attacked False. She’d tried to attack Joe. They were her friends, and she’d wanted to  _ eat  _ them.

She started to shake. What had she become?

* * *

“X! We have a problem!” Xisuma turned to see False running over, Joe right behind her. Both were panting hard, and False had some nasty looking scratches on her arm.  
“What! What is it?”  
“Something’s wrong with Cleo.” Joe babbled, uncharacteristically frantic.   
“She woke up, attacked False- I think she’s a zombie-”  
X took off running toward the hut where they’d been keeping her. It had been too risky to move her, so they’d built a small shelter as close to the mob farm as they’d dared. It wasn’t much- just some wood planks, a door, torch, window, chest and bed- just enough to care for her until she either recovered or died. They’d been hoping for the former.  
“And we didn’t want to just kill her, because we weren’t sure if she’d respawn-”  
“Joe?” X placed both his hands on the frantic hermit’s shoulders.  
“Deep breaths, okay? Calm down. Cleo’s not going anywhere. We  _ will  _ find a way to help her. But you need to stay  _ calm _ .”  
Joe nodded, taking some deep breaths. He was worried about his friend- of course he was. The relationship between Cleo and Joe was not something X would ever understand, but the two were undoubtedly close.  
Sure, Joe seemed to spend most of his spare time annoying the hell out of Cleo, but when push came to shove, they would always look out for each other.

* * *

“Cleo?” Xisuma’s voice was familiar, calm. He was always calm; Cleo wasn’t sure if there was anything that could bother him. Certainly, he didn’t seem horrified at her.  
At what she’d become.

“You okay?” He made a move to step inside, and all of a sudden Cleo was so aware of the  _ blood  _ coursing through his veins, of the  _ warmth  _ his body gave out, of the  _ flesh  _ hidden away beneath the green armour…  
“No- stay back!” Panic coursed through her, as the  _ hunger  _ suddenly grew at X’s scent and warmth. He hesitated, thankfully.  
“Please, I don’t want to-”  
“What’s wrong?”  
She didn’t answer,  _ couldn’t  _ answer, to put her craving into words, to see the expression on X’s face when she admitted she wanted nothing more than to sink her teeth into his flesh. The mask could only hide so much. She buried her face in her hands.  
“How are you feeling?” Cleo felt herself relax slightly, recognising a question she could actually answer.  
“I- sore. Tired. Cold.” She hesitated. “Hungry.”  
X seemed to understand- maybe he just guessed, maybe there was something in her voice that gave it away. Maybe he figured it out because of-  
“I tried to eat False.” She whispered, the realisation hitting her again.   
“Cleo-”  
“I tried to eat False,” Cleo repeated, running her hands through her hair. “I tried to  _ eat  _ False, and I tried to eat Joe, and if you get any closer I might try to eat you, and I should be hyperventilating right now, but I’m not, and- I’m not breathing. I’m not breathing. I’m not  _ breathing _ , and I tried to eat False, and I want to eat you, and-”   
She broke off, burying her face in her hands. She felt tears running down her face. She could still cry. For now. Would she lose that too? Would she even notice it if it was gone?   
What even  _ was  _ she?   
“Hey, Cleo.” X was coming closer, she could hear his footsteps, smell his blood, sense his warmth, feel the unrelenting  _ hunger  _ surge through her system-  
_ I’ll ask around, one of the other hermits might- wait, Cleo? Cleo?!  
_ She lunged, aiming for the exposed arms not covered in thick green armour, where it would be easier to feed. She smelled  _ blood  _ and  _ flesh  _ and  _ warmth  _ and she wanted it, she needed it, needed to stop the  _ hunger- _

* * *

She wasn’t sure how long she’d clawed at the closed door- a long time, if the sheer number of scratches now embedded into the wood were anything to go by. She stared down at her hands- the skin pale and green, the bone structure clearly visible, the sharp claws at her fingertips. She felt sick.

There was movement outside her window. She heard a soft moo as a cow wandered by, oblivious to the small structure and what it housed. Her eyes flitted to the chest in the corner- the one containing her stuff. She lifted her sword out, the weight familiar in her hand. She looked back toward the cow, wandering aimlessly over the grass.  
So long as she put the sword back before anyone arrived, she’d be fine. Hopefully.

“Sorry buddy,” she muttered as she opened the door. “But a girl’s gotta eat. Better you than False.”

* * *

In the end, she hadn’t used the sword. As soon as she’d smelled the poor animal’s blood, that had been it. She’d torn into it with tooth and claw, devouring the raw steak it left behind. She ignored the blood staining her hands, staggering back to the hut.  
The  _ hunger  _ was quenched. For now.

* * *

Cleo wasn’t sure how long she spent in that hut. She found herself mining, building, when she grew restless. She didn’t sleep. Or she couldn’t. Mining was good- familiar, repetitive, simple, methodical. She didn’t have to concentrate. Didn’t have to focus. Didn’t have to think. She collected wood, crafted chests, expanded her hut. She wasn’t sure what she’d do with so much redstone, so she left it outside and let those who could put it to use take it. She had visitors- False, Mumbo, Xisuma, Keralis. Mostly Joe. She lost track of time, lost track of herself. Mine. Build. Craft. Mine. Wood. Stone. Ores. Diamonds. Enchant. Mine some more. Eat raw meat- pork, chicken, beef. Try not to eat Joe. Attack him anyway.   
Cry. Pretend she didn’t notice the black gunk that now came in place of tears.

* * *

She was heading back up the stairs of her mine, her refuge, to drop off the cobble and iron and whatnot she’d gathered. She didn’t know why she didn’t move some chests down to a more convenient location. Maybe she just needed to spend some time on the surface.

She scented water- the kind that dripped from a cave’s ceiling, originating from who-knows-where, making its slow way through the rock. A musty scent, but not unpleasant. Strange undertones- of moss, of bone, of fabric, of others she didn’t recognize now, with her nose so different.   
The scent of slime.

There was a player in her hut. Was it still a hut? It was so much  _ larger _ , now. She still called it a hut. It was habit.

The player was sitting on the chair Joe liked to use, the one that always put him in harm's way. This player wasn't Joe. Blue skin, no hair, a white hoodie. She'd never seen this player before. Was it a player? There was no warmth, no smell of blood.   
Still, she didn't want to risk it.

"Hi, I’m Jevin.” The being cocked his head slightly. Was it a he? He sounded male. She inspected him more closely. 

His blue skin was shiny and translucent- she could see through his hands to the dark pants he was wearing. There seemed to be a solid core suspended in his head, with dark circles in an imitation of eyes and a mouth. Were they just circles? Cleo didn’t know.  
Jevin wore a white hoodie and black pants, both loose, baggy. They looked comfortable, casual, simple.   
She realized she’d been standing there for what was probably longer than normal.

“Cleo.” She said warily. Talking felt strange- she wasn’t sure if she still talked normally, with tongue and voicebox, or in some other different way. She didn’t breathe anymore. Her lungs were still. She didn’t care enough to think about it.  
He was looking at her with a sort of quiet curiosity. 

Deciding that he wasn’t going to continue without her input, she dumped the resources in a chest, then thought better of it and got around to organising the mess that took up the room she’d added. She hadn’t bothered to light it up- the darkness didn’t bother her. She tried to pretend that sunlight didn’t either.  
Besides, she could see just fine.  
She’d been meaning to organise it, anyway.   
Cobble, iron, coal, redstone, lapis, gold, diamond. Much of it was in ore form- she couldn’t be bothered to smelt it. The others knew it was there, knew they were free to take from it. She wasn’t sure why she mined so much. She just did. It was something to do, maybe.  
Maybe at some point she’d go to the Nether, get some quartz- no. No, the Nether was the domain of fire, and fire scared her. She couldn’t- how had she ever been brave enough to go there? What had she been  _ thinking? _

The strange player, the one called Jevin who didn’t smell of blood and had no warmth, watched her as she sorted. The work was easy, methodical. She had things to occupy her mind- blocks and loose resources. She had enough for her mind to not drift to other things. She needed more chests. She’d chop some wood once the sun set.

“You’ve been busy.” She hadn’t noticed Jevin move to take a look inside. She glanced at him.  
“Take what you want.”  
“You sure?”  
“Yeah. Community resources, I guess. Or something.”  
“It feels wrong, taking things directly from your...house.”  
Cleo just shrugged. If he wanted to grind out resources himself, then to each their own. There were stray sticks in the chest she was sorting. She wondered if she’d put them there. She couldn't remember. There was a lot she couldn't remember.

There was a knock on the door.  
“Cleo?”  
“Go away, Joe.”  
Joe entered, staying a barely safe distance away from her. His right forearm was swathed in bandages, making her wince. She’d caught him well last time, almost killed him. Even managed a bite.   
He hadn’t been zombified because of it. Whether it was because of her, or because of him, she didn’t know.   
She didn’t need to look up to know where he was; she could hear him, smell him, feel his warmth. And she knew Joe. Knew his habits.  
Everyone had them.

* * *

Night fell. Cleo finished re-organizing the storage. Joe was smart enough not to get too close. Jevin hung around. For some reason. He and Joe started chatting at some point. Cleo didn’t listen.

“Out of the way, Joe.” The man in question had a stubborn look on his face.  
“You are  _ not  _ going back into that mine.”  
Cleo just stared at him for a moment.   
“I need wood. Out of the way.”  
Joe crossed his arms, and she glared at him.  
“You can’t exactly stop me,” she added quietly. She was right. Especially with Jevin watching. And they both knew it. The blue player was glancing between the two of them, clearly confused.  
“I’d prefer not to do this again. Out of the way, Joe.”  
Her friend finally relented, maneuvering so he’d stay at a safe distance.

* * *

Chopping wood was much the same as mining, in a way. It didn’t take much brainpower; Chop, plant, keep an eye on the sky. Repeat. She fell into a sort of trance, only dragged out of it once, when X showed up. She was vaguely aware of the three other players watching her, of their conversations. She picked up small tidbits every now and then, when she was paying attention. Jevin was new to the server. X was doing something involving a desert temple. Something about Keralis. Reminders that life on the server was carrying on, with or without her.  
She stopped listening.

There was a pause, a moment when the conversation stopped. Then suddenly Joe was  _ there,  _ all of a sudden too close, and she could hear him, see him, smell him-  
Something in her mind went  _ click. _

* * *

She was being restrained- she could feel hands clutching her forearms, pulling her away from her  _ prey.  _ She struggled, snarling. There was prey  _ right there,  _ their blood-scent and warmth carried by the wind, but the Slime was holding her back. Didn’t he want to eat too? There was enough for both of them!  
The part of her that was still  _ her _ , still Cleo, felt relief. The rest felt only the  _ hunger _ .  
She heard voices- the prey was talking. The Slime was talking, as well. She didn’t understand, the words weren’t filtering through the haze in her mind.  
_ “Cleo!”  
_ The prey- no, not prey,  _ never  _ prey- had left, and she hadn’t noticed. Only Jevin remained. She found herself snapping back into reality with the same awful jolt as always.  
She should be panting- she felt a tightness around her chest, around her throat. Jevin still held her- he could stop her. He could stop her.  
_ “I-”  _ The word felt strange in her mouth.  
_ “You okay?”  _ Something about Jevin’s voice had changed, some quality she couldn’t pin down. Then again, she barely knew the man...slime. Jevin was a slime. Somehow.  
_ “I-”  _ words still felt strange, different somehow. _ “Sorry. Thanks.”  _ She wasn’t in the headspace to manage full sentences. Sorry you had to see that. Thanks for stopping me.  
_ “What was that? Didn’t Xisuma install your plugin?”  
_ _ “Plugin?”  _ Okay, something was definitely off. She focused on the sound of the words.  
_ “Wait, are we speaking Zombie?”  
_ _ “Mobspeak. No plugin? How did you manage...oh. How long have you been...”  
_ She’d dropped her axe earlier. She picked it up. There was a sliver of pink on the horizon. She started to head back to her hut.   
“Uhm…” Oh, she was speaking English again. Lovely. “Maybe two months? You’ll have to ask Joe, I’ve kind of lost track of time.”  
“...Right. So no plugin?”  
“ _ What _ plugin?” She glanced back at the slime...player…thing. Would it be rude to ask?  
“You’ve never played with nonhuman players before?” Cleo shrugged.  
“Sort of? I mean, X has never shown his face as far as anyone’s aware, and if Joe’s human I’ll eat my shovel, but other than that…”   
“So no player-mob hybrids?”  
“Oh, there’s a term for that? No, just you.” Jevin nodded.  
“Some of us need specialized plugins to function in polite society and not… attack… people. We’ll have to see if we can find one for you.”  
Cleo opened her door, head spinning. She wanted to be human again, but if she couldn’t have that…  
“How do I find one?”  
Slimes didn't have much in the way of expression, but Jevin seemed to smile.

* * *

“I’m sorry.” Cleo glanced at her best friend in surprise, and no small amount of confusion. Joe was staring intently at the sunset, refusing to meet her gaze.   
“What for?”  
Joe fidgeted with the hem of his shorts.  
“I panicked, I guess. I didn’t want to lose you.”   
“Oh good grief,” Cleo rubbed at her eyes. “Please tell me nobody saw you.”  
“I don’t think so?” Joe awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.  
“Well that’s something, at least. So I have you to thank for this? Lovely.”  
Joe side-eyed her. “You’re not mad?”  
“Oh, I am  _ pissed.”  _ She gave Joe a wide smile, displaying her now-sharp teeth. “And mark my words, Joseph Mountains, I  _ will  _ get you for this.”  
Joe chuckled, clearly taking her very serious threat with the appropriate level of intimidation, and turned back to see the last sliver of pink slowly fade from the sky.  
They watched the stars for a while, rotating slowly above them.  
Eventually, Joe yawned, and Cleo nudged him.  
“Go on, you should sleep.”  
“Want some time alone to plot your revenge?”  
“Oh, absolutely. Go to bed, currently living boy.” Joe shook his head, but he got up and headed toward his bedroom.  
“Oh, and Joe?”  
“Yes, Cleo?”  
“Next time, just let me respawn.”

* * *

They were getting ready to go.   
This world had grown stale, stagnant- the Hermits had grown antsy. So, much like many of the players had travelled from the first world to this one, they were soon to move to another world- Hermitcraft Season 3. X had asked Cleo to meet him and Jevin in New Hermiton, and as she walked the streets, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of loss. Still, she felt excited for the next world. She wasn’t going to spend months on end in a haze doing nothing but mining, this time.  
“So, what’s this about, X?”  
“Cleo! Glad you could join us.” The zombie shrugged, giving him a small smile.  
“So,” Xisuma started, “as you both know, we plan on inviting several new players to become hermits for Season 3.”  
Cleo nodded, though she couldn’t see why she was being asked about this sort of thing. She’d never been much of a social person; it was only a chance encounter that led her to meet the player she would come to know and yell exasperatedly at that was Joe Hills.  
“Well,” Cleo noticed X fiddle with a loose strap on his armour, as if he was nervous. Nervousness from Xisuma? It didn’t seem likely. “Once, a few years before Hermitcraft, I met a... player. Looking back, I realize now he was a cyborg creeper hybrid.”  
Cleo’s eyebrows shot up. Creeper hybrid? She hadn’t realized such a thing existed. Then again, she hadn’t known hybrids existed in general until she’d met Jevin. And a cyborg, as well?   
Jevin also seemed interested. Or maybe he just felt neutral about the matter. Slimes weren’t exactly expressive.  
“You want us to go invite him?” She asked.  
“Exactly. It might take a while, if he’s anything like I remember- he’s an extremely good redstoner, but tends to avoid other players.” He hesitated. "A _lot_."  
Jevin just sighed. “I wish information on the plugins was more widespread, this is ridiculous.”  
Cleo couldn’t help but agree. If she’d known about those things earlier, if she hadn’t been forced to spend months paranoid about attacking people…  
“Well, there’s only one way he’s going to learn,” she said cheerfully. “Who’s this mysterious creeper guy, and where do we find him?”  
X seemed to smile behind his mask.   
“His name is Docm77. As for where to find him, I have instructions from Joe, who knows these things, somehow.”  
There was a pointed tone to his voice, and he was looking directly at Cleo, clearly demanding an explanation. She just gave Xisuma the most innocent smile she could muster, and a shrug.  
“That’s the Joe Hills difference.”

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to another case of "no thoughts head empty only Hermitcraft."  
> And also another case of ignoring 95% of all Season 2 lore but also digging up Jevin's season 2 episode 1 to discover he actually joined partway through (notably, I did not do the same for False, and I'm not about to bother now. It's already written, deal with it).  
> Also _guess what ties in with Hideaway Creeper for some goddamn reason._  
>  At this point I may as well just make my own Hermitcraft Lore. I could do that. I've already got bits and pieces of ideas for some of them.  
> If I can be bothered.
> 
> Maybe I'll make a "Jevin and Cleo get into Doc's fortress" OS and make this a series or something. Who knows.


End file.
